


Epcot, United States of America

by ProfessorSmith (DeltaJones)



Series: The Lost Chapters - World War Z: Oral History of the Zombie War [1]
Category: World War Z - Max Brooks
Genre: Additional Content, Continuation, Disney World, Epcot, Florida, Gen, Mostly Lore Friendly, OC, Original Characters - Freeform, Original Flavor, We Can't Let These Stories Die, Zombie, after action report
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:06:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaJones/pseuds/ProfessorSmith
Summary: Many interviews didn't make the final cut for either the UN Special Report or the Oral History. This is one of those stories.EPCOT was once a cornerstone of pre-war capitalism. Part amusement park, part living advertisement, part World’s Fair, it was the envy of its competitors and a prime vacation spot of tourists worldwide. Today, the affluent lands of Future World and the World Showcase are called a “modern-day Urbino” by those who call the capital city in the former Florida destination their home.When I arrive at the front gates of the former Walt Disney World theme park, I am searched for weapons and other items forbidden to non-residents. Nothing I have is confiscated. The guards are friendly, insisting that it is entirely due to security and that once done, I’ll have free roam of the park. Inside the high walls, I find Oliver Jameson and a long-haired man in a white coat at the single table erected in the Legacy Courtyard. The man leaves nodding and Jameson motions me toward him, this poster of pre-war America: large in the stomach, cocky grin, firearms both at his side and in his lap, idly playing with a mobile phone connected to his white, Apple brand earbuds.





	Epcot, United States of America

**The following is from the large archive of interviews that did not make the final edit into either the UN Special Report or the Oral History of the Zombie War. As the original author retains the legal rights to publish these documents, they will be released as more unpublished sections are edited at the UNIL offices in New York City and are legally released by the author.**

**[Note: most editing done is for grammar rather than content. While the most lengthy or esoteric records did not belong in either older published works, these largely unedited interviews represent a less polished version of what eventually made up those works.]**

**Justin Foote, IV, Senior Research Librarian, United Nations International Library**

**Epcot, United States of America**

**EPCOT was once a cornerstone of pre-war capitalism. Part amusement park, part living advertisement, part World’s Fair, it was the envy of its competitors and a prime vacation spot of tourists worldwide. Today, the affluent lands of Future World and the World Showcase are called a “modern-day Urbino” by those who call the capital city in the former Florida destination their home.**

**When I arrive at the front gates of the former Walt Disney World theme park, I am searched for weapons and other items forbidden to non-residents. Nothing I have is confiscated. The guards are friendly, insisting that it is entirely due to security and that once done, I’ll have free roam of the park. Inside the high walls, I find Oliver Jameson and a long-haired man in a white coat at the single table erected in the Legacy Courtyard. The man leaves nodding and Jameson motions me toward him, this poster of pre-war America: large in the stomach, cocky grin, firearms both at his side and in his lap, idly playing with a mobile phone connected to his white, Apple brand earbuds.**

I wouldn’t have believed you if you told me this twenty years ago. Me: survivor of the Zombie War. 

**He gives a self-deprecating laugh.**

Stupid. I spent most of my twenties feeling sorry for myself that I couldn’t hold a job (got bored), and that my education was worthless. 

**Worthless?**

I was a dime-a-dozen liberal arts student in college. Couldn’t choose a specialization to save my life and ended up in graphic design just because it let me sit in front of a computer all day, getting fatter and maybe being able to save some money. I spent my time wandering in and out of other academic departments (history, biology, computer science, fine art), the library (loved the library), different offices from my professors to the head of the university itself. I did just about everything but sit still in my department. I guess it was that mixed education that ended up saving my life. 

When the panic was really getting started, I was living a little north of Fort Lauderdale -- that’s a city in Florida that might as well be part of Miami -- which itself might as well be an extension of Cuba. But I’m getting off topic. You’ll cut my rambling? Anyway, I was living with my family, just one more college graduate living at home, when the panic came. And I’ll admit, I was on the panic train. It was lucky that Andrew was close at hand. He was the real brain behind the plan. 

He and I went to school together. Been friends since basically our first day. All I could think about was a lengthy conversation we’d had over lunch. It lasted hours, but it was all coming back so clearly. We said “What if zombies take over the world, what do we do?” We said we’d take over EPCOT like some kind of raider gang, and survive that way. Whenever I needed some new idea, I’d turn to Andrew. He was big picture, I was details. That’s why our leaps and bounds came to a slow crawl when he died. 

**He breaks his already shaky eye-contact and glances back at the giant, iconic sphere of Spaceship Earth behind him.**

So that’s what we did. I was on a little weekend getaway when my decision was made for me. Disney was only a few hours away by car, so I went every month or so; any time I could escape the dragging days back home. I was even staying with Andrew and his wife for the couple days when the panic really started. Clogged roads, violence. There was no way I was getting home any time soon. So… we went to EPCOT. 

Can you believe the parks were still open and staffed? The tourists were plenty. Probably a few thousand in each park — back then, there were four parks and a bunch of smaller places… will your readers know enough about Disney World to get some of my more local references? I mean… I practically lived here before the panic, and I’m probably the last person alive who knows how to access all of the old DACS substations. 

**DACS?**

Yeah. Digital Animation Control System. Back when Disney built Magic Kingdom in the sixties, they built it on top of a series of hallways and offices that would be a massive control center for the park. That’s why you never really saw janitors or workers in MK, because they literally vanish underground when their work is finished. There’s a million almost unseen utilities in the parks. Water and power are the obvious ones. But sewage, trash and recycle, Monorail lines, all those hidden alcoves most people overlook that hide everything from lighting controls to emergency radios. 

Most people don’t know about is the giant subterranean tunnel. The Utilidors, kind of like you took the words ‘utilities’ and ‘corridors’ and smashed them together. I was a diehard fan and even I didn’t know about the underground roads to the other parks. We had to change the Wikipedia article; it said the tunnels didn’t extend between parks. They were wrong about the expanse. I half-expected to find Walt’s frozen head down there. Some of the kids here go hunting for it every so often now that they’re safe. A nice diversion. It wasn’t much back then, just a concrete passage that more or less followed the surface roads. But it was defensible. 

**You set up defenses underground?**

Not at first. All we could really do once we were in the old EPCOT was to hole up in The Land pavilion and consolidate our position. Remember, we started with just three people. We each had a large segment of information about the parks picked up over years of fandom, but not one of us knew it all. I kept it that way until later. I might be the only person here that knows where all the passages go, how to access the alcoves, and where the secrets are. 

**How did you do that with the park still open to the public?**

We waited. I can’t tell you how much we walked going in and out of the park day after day, waiting for the place to be announced closed. It took… maybe ten days before our vigilance paid off. But when it did, we swept in. Just three of us: Andrew, his wife, and me. We went in with knives and one hand gun. His parents had given it to him for his house when he got married. 

We didn’t need any of it. 

**Why is that?**

People were finally running for the hills. Not that there are any hills in Florida. The Old Mouse had given up. Capitalism had given up. Where else could any of them go but home to die?

I told the last guard working for the park, the last one that bothered to stop me at the gates anyway, that if I were going to die, it’d be here where I could, maybe, defend myself. You know what? That was my first good idea during the panic. I was loud, dressed to impress, and made the guy realize that he had a better chance with us than out there with them. 

**Jameson looks down at his shoes, considers them, then looks back at me.**

When I was in college, I used to talk to a lot of people. I used to do favors for people, go out of my way to help them, never expecting anything in return. But when the time came that I finally needed help, there were endless offers from all corners. This time, like when I was a young adult, it happened by accident. 

Oratory saved a lot of lives over the years. But it was words, and later actions, that really did the work. But when I spoke, people trusted that I had their interests at heart. I don’t care what people say about me. I’m no hero. I just stole everything that wasn’t nailed down and got people to save themselves. All they needed was a push. 

The farm was first on my agenda. The Land had a small greenhouse full of herbs and fruit. They said that it supplemented the restaurants, but most of what they grew there was for show. It looked pretty, but wouldn’t feed many people for very long. We had to convert it all to high calorie and fast growing food in a hurry if we were going to stand a chance at all. Corn, wheat, sugar, and any of a thousand other crops we had the pick of. The staff kept samples of everything in a vault in the EPCOT utilidors and their library had instruction in everything from proper irrigation to crop rotation. 

We drained the canal for the ride that went through the green house. Changing the filters and making it into the irrigation river came later. For the moment, it was poison. Full of all matter of shit not useful for growing food; chemicals to keep bacteria from propagating in the water, anti-moss, bug repellent, you name it. We took heat lamps from every kitchen and restaurant we could get to so the darkening sky didn’t affect our growing, and set up these little spinning gadgets to water in sequence. All mechanical, no electricity needed. 

**No electricity? But what about the heat lamps?**

The Land had a small solar array we ran the lamps from. We didn’t know how the systems worked and the place drew too much power as it was. Do you know how much power ten thousand light bulbs takes to stay on all day? What about the PA system? The kitchens, offices, the rides? It all needed power we didn’t have. We needed former employees, janitors, plumbers, electricians; hell, I’d have given my left arm to have an Imagineer on our team back then. I almost did when we raided Animal Kingdom the first time and one of the lions wanted me for dinner. I showed him what a pissed-off ex-Jew with a spear can do when his people are counting on him. 

I remember the first time I threatened someone with a gun. He was a survivalist hiding out in MGM. He’d been taking food, spoiled or otherwise, from the restaurants and keeping busy turning off everything that needed power. The army would have called him one of those Robinson Crusoe types. Nice enough, but he’d been alone and scared for weeks when we met him that he wasn’t too keen on our presence. I wanted to know how he knew what to switch to conserve power. I needed to know about the power stations around the parks. When he refused, I nearly blew his brains out screaming for him to tell me. Andrew had to hit me to get me to focus again. 

I hadn’t killed anyone up to then and I wasn’t about to start. But I got my way. That tech, Sergio, taught me everything about the grid that he knew. I might have felt bad about it, but it was the fall before that first winter when the temperatures started falling and our little solar batteries weren’t going to last through a long, dark season. 

**Jameson motions toward the park behind him, then rises and beckons me to follow. As we walk into Future World, he points at a building with a partially collapsed roof. The sign above the double doors reads Innoventions West. A second sign strung over the doors reads DO NOT ENTER - DUKE OF EPCOT.**

A fair bit of the property had started falling into ruin before we could organize. Lack of people to maintain existing problems, coupled with some early and minor looting led to small issues like broken doors and windows. That roof gave in during our recycling push. Once we had enough people to really start collecting materials, I started organizing us into teams. I had to show everyone what I wanted done, so I spent time teaching, showing them how to do the work and doing it myself out of frustration and worry that it wouldn’t be done right. 

I still had to learn to delegate. The first border wall was built of recycled cars. Zombies could crawl through gaps in the wall, but much fewer than those that could have just walked right through empty air. Thousands of vehicles just left parked outside. Sedans, SUVs, Jeeps and trucks were the goal those first months. One by one, I had them rolled or driven depending on the vehicle, into the area around Test Track. Big, open, and already walled in so we had some defence from the massive horde outside. Our moat was thin compared to Orlando. But they came in every now and then. I really thought we’ve eventually be overrun, but it never happened. 

We were still collecting gasoline then, before it decayed into uselessness. At best, the gas we collected would be good for a year. We just didn’t have the ability to store it in any meaningful way. Too many chances for impurities to creep in, too much water and stray hydrocarbons that stuck to the metal and made the gas less able to run engines with each passing day. The cars were stripped for metal, and the electronics and engines and plastics were stockpiled in the employee parking lot there. A ten foot wall of curved metal car bodies did more to keep the zombies out than ten thousand soldiers would have before that new west coast army training was thought up. 

The batteries, though. Those little twelve volt chem-piles numbered in the tens of thousands. They were in everything from the recycled cars to Segways. Within the first six months, we had enough storage capacity to keep the lights on for years; and that’s not including the solar cells we stripped from houses in the suburbs, the hydroelectric power station between Bay Lake and the Seven Seas Lagoon, or the wind farm that we’ve been tapping since we took back the Turnpike. 

The real life-saver came from that.

**He points up at Spaceship Earth.**

The Beacon. We found a few soldiers during our sweep of Downtown Disney a few months after we settled in and around the time our first major harvest was due to start. They’d been left behind to keep a hundred or so people from following the army north during the Abandonment. Yes, Abandonment. I know that in the long run, it saved a lot of lives and brought America back from the brink of destruction, but that’s what it was to everyone left behind. We were abandoned. I gave those hungry boys and the civilians a choice: come to Epcot and work, or stay downtown and die. Either way, we were there to sweep and pacify it as part of our expanding borders. There were forty-seven square miles of Disney property, and I wanted every square inch under our protection before I was willing to rest. We managed to pacify the whole property about two years after that. Not a single zombie made it past the purple street signs after our second wall went up. This time, it was concrete and tires. 

One of the soldiers wasn’t even part of the infantry. He wasn’t even part of the military police. He was an electron pusher with more experience in wiring stuff together than firing a gun. I put him on a project I’d been wanting to get up for a while: an automatic, silent distress beacon for survivors. It’s little more than a giant, powerful light bulb attached to a computer that flashes it in a certain pattern. 

Morse Code for “SAFE” was enough for anyone who saw it. Sure, it brought a zombie or two, but it brought us hundreds of people who would have probably died at home when their food ran out. Poor bastards. 

Shit really hit the fan when the army came back a few years after that. We must have had held Epcot for… almost nine years when we first started communicating with them. Holy hell, was their CO pissed at me.

**Jameson laughs.**

It was one of the last legs for the army’s advance from the Rocky Mountains. I made a point to be a troublemaker when I was an undergrad, so I could stand there glassy eyed and get yelled at for as long as the CO of Army Group South wanted to shout. I’d brought along this outfit with me when I left home, and I augmented it with stuff I stole from the Studios. Did you know MGM was more or less a working film studio while also a theme park? 

**He starts pointing out parts of the outfit. At a glance, he’s wearing boots, a long black coat, and pre-war military-style fatigues.**

The boots are actually closer to high heels. They conceal a shoe that makes me about four inches taller than I actually am without hampering what short distance my fat ass can run. The battledress is something I grabbed off a dummy at the Great Movie Ride; a size too small, but it’s wool and impressive looking. The coat was mine. It was a gift Andrew gave me for being his Best Man at his wedding. I topped it with a great big Stetson hat from some old John Wayne western that’d been sitting in a glass case on the Backlot Tour. It made me look and feel about six and a half feet tall and really well built, rather than the unimpressive five foot nine fat fuck I actually was. 

We’d been watching the approach for days. Hell, we’d been in radio contact with the army since they made it to the Mississippi River a year and a half earlier. Spoke with, and I almost didn’t believe it, President Powell himself. To think he made President. I always thought he was just another military politician, just as bad as those Senators who sold us out on snake-oil medications before the panic. Who am I to judge people? Actually speaking with him, I learned why people always spoke with such reverence when his name came up in conversation. I can’t give him enough credit for how he managed early negotiations for intelligence on Florida. Hell, I would have given them the info for free, but he insisted on sending some of his people in to help us with some special projects we’d had on the backburner for a while (that’s how the hydro plant got built, and how we tapped the captured wind farm). Anyway, rather than meet them at our borders, we pulled back to just north of Orlando proper, lined up the militia, and I went to the front to say hello. 

I made my case clear. I was leader of this little enclave of almost ten thousand people. We spent nearly ten damned years pacifying central Florida and taking back land from the dead. We could claim safe territory from east to west, from as far north as Daytona and as far south as the Everglades (which, I’ll admit, was really only back as far as Lake Okeechobee as a lot past that was floodland). Granted, most of it was wild; but we kept it free of zombies. The general even admitted that they hadn’t seen a live zombie since passing the Ocala Forest. They weren’t just talking to some nobody holding an apartment building or one of the rebel nut-jobs they’d already dealt with north of us. They were talking to the legal representative of another nation and they’d send a representative of equal rank to start these talks. 

I almost lost it when the signal came over the radio for just that. 

We rigged up a transceiver years back out of the radio station Disney ran out of the Florida area. It was powerful enough to receive from just about anywhere, and send out as far as a few hundred miles without relay (which we couldn’t have. Relays were satellites, and there just weren't enough left. Thank fuck for those astronauts who kept the important ones up there. Brave bastards).

Anyway. It was a request for permission to land in the State of Epcot, the name I’d given them almost on instinct. Since everything started at EPCOT, it seemed right to name our new country after it. Our Experimental Prototype City of Tomorrow wasn’t a city anymore; it was a nation. 

We’d turned down airdrops for supplies before, telling them to send them where people really needed more. We set up a landing site at the old parking lot outside Magic Kingdom, just a long strip of cleared concrete parallel to World Drive, and offered to ferry the representatives to Epcot proper for this meeting. We’d gotten enough power by then to run the Monorail. Oh, it was impressive. I couldn’t have asked for a better counter to who they sent. 

**Who were the United States’ representatives?**

Hardly anyone believes me when I say… I was shaking hands with the President of the United States as an equal. Me. Granted, by the time we met, President Powell had passed away and I was with President Dean, the Whacko. This was just before the army finally all met up at New York and finished taking care of America. 

It was him, Arthur Sinclair, jr, and Travis D’Ambrosia. These men were, at the time, the government. They had powers to do as they thought was right and it damn near saved the world. 

I guided my honored guests to the Transportation and Ticket Center where I surprised them by inviting them up a ramp to the Monorail station. The Monorail was special, to me at least. It was an electrically driven train that ran several feet above ground on a concrete track. I loved riding it, and would have spent hours just circling the lagoon if I had the time. 

**Jameson gives a poor imitation of the Spanish for “Please stand clear of the doors” before leading me back around Spaceship Earth and out to the World Showcase.**

D’Ambrosia and Sinclair had been to the park before, and the President knew about the parks, but no one expected to be treated to the first real pure luxury I’m sure they’d had in years. 

After the automated announcement about the doors closing played, the President said, “This is all very impressive Mr. Jameson, but we have to get to the point.” 

I told him that while he and his soldiers were guests in Epcot, they’d be treated with respect by my cast members (some of the older guys who’d been like me and loved the parks picked that up, trying to keep the old spirit alive). But also that there were rules. They were to disarm, but any recording or transmitting devices were allowed. We didn’t have secrets. In the spirit of these talks, I even allowed them to bring their own security; armed, but under the watch of our security forces. 

**We board one of Epcot’s two ferries, the Friendship One. It has been retrofitted to run along a tight cable stretched from the center of the park, to the American Pavillion at the back. We are pulled along by a solar-powered winch.**

This is the same trick I used on the President. Once we got to Epcot on the Monorail, we walked to this boat and rode back to America. I thought the irony couldn’t have possibly been lost on the delegation. We neither left America nor were left by America, as it was right here at Epcot all along. That’s the message I wanted to send. 

And that’s what I did. The conference table had been set up right there in the theater, surrounded by classical Americana. I made myself clear. Epcot was no longer part of Florida. But we were American. I’d been trained, insisting that the political types in our population work me over so this came out right. The minutes are available if you want to see them, but it more or less went like this: Epcot wants statehood, and all the responsibilities and privileges that comes with that. We’re open to reintegration into the United States, but I was not about to give up everything we spent so long working for to the government to squander the way they squandered our trust a decade ago. 

As you can see--

**Jameson waves around at the water.**

\--that’s more or less what we got. 

**We arrive at the American Adventure Theater, the former park attraction, just as a group of around a hundred people exit. Most file past on their way out, but some greet Jameson with requests for mediation and advice.**

We talked a lot about the tech and all that stuff, but that’s just to show what’s under the hood. See the museum over there? I had it turned into a library with everything we could save from the public libraries across the state. That was a few years into our little adventure, and just six months before we got the radios working and knew America was on the march again. I’d been thinking of myself as a modern-day Montefeltro by then and was trying to live up to the name. 

**Montefeltro?**

Federico de Montefeltro. He lived about six hundred years ago and ran one of the finest cities in the world: Urbino. To this day, I still think of Epcot as being a sort of sister city to Urbino. Montefeltro brought the Renaissance to Italy. He built a university, a massive library, even staffed the city leadership with intellectuals and thinkers. Why do you think I insisted that Epcot’s council of governors were learned people? College types and professors, rather than politicians. I’m not the thinker or soldier that he was, but I could at least learn from his example. 

**So those people from before…**

I believe in a leader’s duty to his people. So anyone who needs answers or someone to make a decision or even just someone to vent their frustration to… me. 

**As if on cue, two boys run up to us shouting for Jameson’s attention. He glances at me imploringly, and turns to the boys. I watch as he listens, insisting that each boy, in turn, tell his own side to their conflict; then, he declares one of the boys to be in the right. Upset, but understanding, the other boy hands over a deck of playing cards to his friend.**

Danny bent a few of Hudson’s trading cards during a game. I made them agree to split the difference and put the cards under a couple books to straighten them out. It’s little things like that. 

The only time I hated this job was when we were retaking land south of Kissimmee. Flooding, cities full of zombies, and enclaves of stranded people were all problems we had to face. It was… I had a lot of friends in Florida before the panic. And I lost both Andrew and his wife during the southward advance. She died the worst way: freak accident. No one could have known about that apartment building. We weren’t even far from Epcot, just a few miles south of the property. She approaches the damned thing and it chose that moment to collapse. It took everything I had to drag Andrew back from the dust and keep him from running in. 

**He breathes heavily.**

He went mad with grief not long after that. I… I’d been taking responsibility for executions for a long time by then. For bitten citizens, the dying, criminals for everything from murder to sabotage or rebellion. It was just another chore, like any other, when done righteously. That’s what I told him when my judgement came down. I used a .45 pistol. I said, “A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness doesn’t understand it.” I thought he’d appreciate the reference before I sent him ahead. 

The west coast was a wash. Flooded thirty miles inland. We erected levees to try to keep the inland roads dry. After the first major storm, we gave it up and decided that it was better off left alone. We’d lost dozens of people trying to maintain the western borders when it made more sense to leave it and move east. East coast was easier. It was more built up, more easily defended. But it was also the last place I wanted to be. Everything south of West Palm Beach was under a foot of seawater and the swamp was reclaiming the land. Most of Florida, Disney included, is built on the swamp. The Everglades used to be Florida. It might be again one day. 

The last time I personally went south, I was leading the advance into south Florida in search of survivors, material, anything useful to our efforts. I found…

**Jameson breaks off and leaves the building. When I catch up to him, he’s sitting at the fountain in the courtyard outside the theater. I approach slowly when he invites me to sit.**

Sorry. During the southern advance, we swept the Sawgrass Expressway, this little twenty mile stretch of highway that linked the local cities to the Turnpike and Interstate 95. My family home is only a couple miles from one of the exits. I asked a team to accompany me up the road in a boat to ascertain the state of my old home. 

Under only a foot of water, the house didn’t look too bad. I broke in a first floor window above the waterline, just in case the doors had held back the water. I didn’t need to be so cautious. I’d been living there with my family before the panic, so I saw the remnants of my old life still where I’d left it. Computers and game systems, ruined books that I used to cherish so much. All my old stuff untouched except for a table that had been used to board up a window. 

And I found them… my family. Not all of them, you see. While I was throwing up in the hallway leading to the central-most room in the house, my team was investigating the bodies. Only four people. Two men and two women, but no teenagers. My sister’s kids weren’t here. They would have been teens when the panic came, but if they left… there was hope. And if there was hope… 

I found out later that the oldest, my nephew, had joined up with the army during the Abandonment. He and his brother and sister went with the army out west and were with Army Group Center when they joined with AG South west of Hilton Head, South Carolina; and they fought in New York before leaving the army and coming home. The oldest was a combat doctor (he’d been pre-med before the panic), and the other two were grunts on the line. 

When our immigration officers put the names those kids gave into the computers, alarms started going off in their minds. We didn’t have a central network yet, but each laptop workstation had a text document listing people to look out for; family members of citizens were given automatic citizenship themselves as long as they didn’t cause trouble on arrival. 

When word made its way to my office, I was tired from a full day of work in Magic Kingdom. One of my pet projects that I could finally justify was to bring the Carousel of Progress online. It wouldn’t be done for years, but it was tiring work that I insisted on doing alone. I made for the Monorail station at the front of the park at a dead run and didn’t stop until I was on the train. The tent city at the TTC was a maze that even I didn’t fully understand, but I made it to the immigration office in time to see all three of them, now grown that I hadn't seen them in twelve years, and I did something I hadn’t had time, energy, or patience for in those dozen years: I cried. Openly and loudly.

**Oliver Jameson continues as first Duke of Epcot to the initial publishing of this interview.**


End file.
